Out With The Old
by Eilidh17
Summary: Five minute fiction as a result of boredom. To come up with a plausible reason as to why Daniel doesn't wear his boonie anymore. Very, very, mild Slash.


"I don't believe it!"

"Jack!"

"No, Daniel. For my sake as well as yours, probably best if you keep your distance."

"But I'm already-"

"Infected? Hell, you're Brightman's proverbial Patient X!"

"Could have been anyone."

"Maybe," Jack huffed indignantly, "but for some reason the galaxy likes the way you smile."

"You say this like it was preordained or something."

"With you, anything is possible." Jack moved away from the quarantine door and as far to the other side of the room as he could. "I'm just gonna stand over here and pretend those little buggers won't reach me from there."

"They can't jump!"

"Says who?"

"Brightman. You do realize you're in here with me because you _are_ infected?"

"Well, it sure as hell beat sharing a cell with Carter."

"Who, I might add, isn't infected. And... cell? You make it sound like a prison term."

"Half-life, Daniel. She called it a half-life."

"She also said she had a cure, so the half-life rate doesn't really apply now, does it?"

"Don't! Don't confuse me. The half-life was twelve hours, the cure took eight."

"Will take eight. The formula is still being synthesized."

"And in the meantime, you stay where you are and I'll be somewhere over here writing up my report to the quartermaster."

"You're not...?"

"Damn sweet I am."

"What the hell am I supposed to wear now?"

"Be thankful I'm not striking bandanas from the uniform dress code."

The air around Daniel suddenly grew thick and hot, like something that had been a part of him for so long was about to be lost forever. "Can't we reach some sort of compromise?"

"Like what? Ask for a fabric change? Something in satin, perhaps?"

"Now you're just being stupid, Jack."

"No. Now I'm doing exactly what the base CMO has instructed me to do."

And as if on cue, Doctor Brightman tapped on the quarantine room window and pointed towards the medication shoot next to the door. The speakers in the room crackled to life. "Take this," she said lifting a clear tube up to show them and then pushing it into the slot. "Head to toe, both of you, and don't skip a spot because you'll soon know about it."

"The cure?" Daniel asked hopefully, trying to totally ignore Jack. "Please say you figured it out."

"_Pulex irritans_."

"You're kidding!"

"Well, yes, but it's the closest species to what you brought back, and given the culture you were investigating had its roots in South America, it is quite possible they carried it with them when they were taken by the Goa'uld."

"So it's evolved?"

"Most definitely. Biologically different, enough to be seen as a new sub-class, but definitely on par with what we have here. A little harder to kill, though. And a whole lot bigger."

Daniel plucked the tube from the shoot and held it up in front of his face. "So this should do it?"

"Worked in the lab. I don't see why not."

"Doc!"

"Yes, General?"

"How about giving it to me in words of four letters or less?"

"You have fleas."

"That's it?" He turned to Daniel and stabbed a finger at him. "And you said one last mission for old times' sake!"

"I didn't see the harm!"

"Actually, General," Brightman cut in. "I don't suppose you know how you became infected?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, sir. Given that this breed of flea doesn't appear to be able to jump between hosts, there would have to be some type of close-quarter contact."

Holding a straight face wasn't working, so Jack went for the obvious. "Must have been when I picked up his-"

"The largest concentration was found in your pubic hair, sir."

"Your point?"

"Casual observation."

Daniel sniggered.

Jack tried his best to ignore him. "So you're saying what we have is a case of giant intergalactic fleas that just happen to be attracted to the type of chemical used to make-"

"Don't say it." Daniel cringed.

"I'm sorry, Daniel, there's no escaping it."

"Couldn't we treat-"

"No. We tried that," said Brightman. "This isn't your common garden variety of fleas. They've adapted with their new environment. Even the ones you brought back through the 'gate have shown a remarkable ability to procreate at a rate unseen in those we have here on Earth. Now, you're generally the only one on your team that wears... you know.."

Daniel shook his head sadly.

"Unfortunately we can't ask the US military to simply change the way in which they make them just to appease the minority who not only happen to wear them but also travel offworld. There is something in the chemical they use in fabric used for this particular-"

"Yeah, yeah... I get it. And locking that planet out of our system?"

"Won't work," Jack said from behind Daniel's shoulder. "Naquadah rich, archaeologically challenging, and loaded with a selection of plant and animal life that will keep the biology department wetting themselves for the foreseeable future. And you yourself said these people trade through the 'gate."

"Which means this won't be the only world with this problem. So that's it then?"

"Sorry, Daniel." Jack clapped one hand on his shoulder in a show of compassion. "This marks the end of your boonie wearing days."

"Shower, boys, and don't spare the cream." Brightman donned a pair of surgical gloves and snapped back one of the fingers, smiling. "I'll be in there to check you over. Everywhere."

Jack groaned loudly. "Everywhere?"

End


End file.
